


Soulmates (Figure it out Already)

by PhantasmaDormi



Series: Syndianite/Diacate [13]
Category: Mianite - Fandom, Mianite(Minecraft Series), Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Characters based purely on the youtube series, Dianite is a God, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Rare Pair, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tom is a human, Unrevised Older Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2019-01-09 06:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12270489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantasmaDormi/pseuds/PhantasmaDormi
Summary: Everyone was born with some wacky mark that they shared with their soulmate. When he was little, Tom dreamed of being some knight in shining armor for his soulmate. After tiring of looking for his soulmate, he wasn’t prepared to be the damsel in distress (at least he made a fabulous damsel)





	Soulmates (Figure it out Already)

**Author's Note:**

> Old work from early August

Tom plainly stared at the man’s bland mark pasted on his neck. Some blob of colors, roughly in the shape of a… piece of bread? A deformed gold nugget? A beaten-up sun? Who fucking knows. 

The bearded man sneered at the shorter man, “Looking at my mark little bitch? I bet you wish you had such an extravagant beauty as mine.” 

The younger rolled his eyes. “Wow, such a big word for someone with a small brain. What the fuck is that supposed to be? A golden piece of shit?”

His eyes bulged, mouth twisted back in a snarl. “You’re going to end up a pile of shit if you don’t keep your mouth shut.” Tom eyed the man’s mark once more. 

“You’re right, maybe I should keep my mouth shut.” He gave a light shrug. “You probably already know how pathetic your mark is. Honestly, they should have made another requirement for recruitment, an actual mark that doesn’t look like someone had diarrhea.”

“Now you’re getting it you little bitch,” the brute roared, charging at the smaller man with his fist pulled back. Tom ducked under the fist, some sloppy attempt at a right hook, and took the initiative to trip the man. With a curse, he went sprawling to the ground in a sad heap, flailing uselessly. Had they been allowed weapons before the bullshit tests they were to go through, he would have left more than a couple scratches. Probably start by removing that god-awful beard.

“Enough squabbling,” a voice called from above. Along with the rest of the group, about twenty other people, he turned to see Furia standing above them. The fire demon boredly scanned the assembled humans, unimpressed with the turnout. Though there were a few interesting persons, that one man strangely dressed like a stripper, the one sporting bright blue hair, and one girl wearing as many spikes on her clothes as possible, the overall group seemed lacking. Many of the potential recruits appeared weak or entirely too timid. Not to mention the power-hungry freaks, thinking that they were entitled to anything once recruited.

“For those of you who are less aware,” he made a not so subtle glance towards a couple, the two men pointing at spike girl, not even trying to listen to the higher being, “You will be undergoing a series of tests to deem whether you are worthy of becoming part of Lord Dianite’s army. Try not to waste my time. There are plenty more qualified people waiting for attention, and I don’t really need more children to attend to.” 

Some of the group was offended, very confident in their skill, while the other shrugged it off, already prepared for Furia’s scathing comments and sass.

At that point, they were separated into two groups and taken to the testing area. The first activity was simple really, take a small boulder and throw it as far as possible. There were a few grumbles as the first group stepped up, doubting the point of the exercise. The first few to throw made it pitifully far, trying their best to launch it in a shot-put style. Shit mark brute puffed up proudly as his made it the second farthest, just behind the stripper’s (who made is surprisingly far, a good 10 feet away). 

Tom took a little more time, along with the more skeptical attendants. He lifted the rather large rock, and turned a few times before setting it loose with a motion more typical of a disk. The result was considerably better than that of the other people, outdoing the burly man he fought, but still behind the stripper.

After his demonstration, the remaining people were quick to mimic him, finding more success than the earlier attempts. Unfortunately for the stripper, two people found theirs farther than his, and quite a number found theirs beyond or close to Tom’s. Their observer hummed for a moment, before bringing them to the next test. This was a tad more complicated, their goal was to get on the other side of a 12-foot wall, with no obvious hand holds.

Once more, a few people took initiative, making a running start and scrambling at the mostly smooth rock. Some found themselves stuck, not sure where to go. A small number of people standing behind took a moment to watch what Tom would do. Said person glanced at the wall, then at Furia. Shrugging, he ran towards the wall, only to go around it. Going to stand next to the fiery being, he received a nod of approval, as it was never specified they had to scale the wall. A tad embarrassed, the rest of them followed Tom’s footsteps.

They went through the remaining tests in this fashion, Tom occasionally finding easier ways to go about tasks, sometimes others took the time to figure better ways out first. Overall, stripper man, Tom, and spike girl were doing the best, with some girl with a pig pulling her weight rather well. (When they were moving between sets, Tom asked the girl about the massive number of spikes she wore, she said they gave her confidence and made her look badass. And no one questioned the pig, it simultaneously assisted the girl with her tasks and did them itself.).

The last test was a traditional one: dueling. They were giving opponents from the opposite group, the one brute unhappy to lose the opportunity to show Tom up. The blue haired man found himself up against the pig lady, both wielding dulled blades, while the pig looked rather menacingly at him.

“Don’t fuck up too bad, cuts from a dull blade hurt worse than a sharp one,” Furia idly called out, mostly unconcerned with any injuries that less prepared would receive.

Once it was Tom’s turn, the swine took no time to charge him, careening at his legs. He sidestepped at the last minute, hitting that side of its face with the flat part of his sword. It stumbled, dazed, and he turned to find himself face to face with his actual opponent. Her swings were lightning fast, but speed was all she had. Beyond a few scratches left on his skin, (Furia was right, it hurt like a bitch), they held no real force, at least if she wanted to make a real wound. He took to outmaneuvering her, repeatedly ducking under swipes and dodging overhead swings, landing hits on her sides and back.

Just as he was going to land the defeating blow (no deaths, Furia had instated, loser had to clean any blood stains), he tumbled over as the pig returned, finally finding his mark. He used the momentum of his fall to roll from the duo, quickly righting into a crouch. The pig lady hurried to find the defeating blow, but as she swung towards him, he rolled off to her side, rising in one fluid motion and sending his blade up to her neck. A thin trickle of blood trailed down her pale skin as he was established as the winner.

Furia wasn’t really surprised when the blue haired one won. Upon viewing the group from afar, Dianite himself had told him to keep an eye on him. There was something strange with the way he looked at him, an excited and elated glint to his eye, an unusually soft smile gracing his lips. When the demon asked about his strange behavior, the god waved it off, saying he’d tell him later. And as the man both thanked the lady and her pig for a great fight (what a gentleman), and smugly flipped off his pseudo opponent from earlier, who lost to a petite girl, who destroyed him, he was certain he was a good fit for the army. (Hopefully he wouldn’t be so kind to their enemies, however).

Once all were done, he dismissed them, and they found their way back to their assigned rooms. Tomorrow, he would wake them long before the sun returned, and announce who got to stay and who needed to get the fuck out. Somehow, the stripper found his way onto the staying list, outperforming many of the others. (He would have kept pig lady, as she was mostly to standard, but he was not going to deal with having a fucking pig to look after. Watching the rest of the immature recruits was annoying enough). Shaking his head, he went to relay the results to the god.

~

Dianite knew exactly when his soulmate was born. The dragon made of flames curled on the skin above his heart, a vibrant orange hue against his ruby skin, practically burst to life when he came into the world. But he chose to wait to meet him. Making a connection with his soulmate so young might poorly influence his other, his vast years of life giving him much more experience than the younger. He had seen in many people, that the wider the age gap, which was laughable with himself, the better is was to meet later in life. It irritated him, but he promised himself that if they hadn’t met by the time he turned 25, he was going to have to make a grand entrance into his life.

Of course, this didn’t stop him from stalking the child from time to time, sometimes from regular eye sight, other times from more magical means. His name was Thomas Cassel. He had an older sister, who was strangle chaotic for someone who chose to follow his sister, and separated parents. Though his family wasn’t particularly poor, they certainly weren’t boasting wealth. This lead to Tom taking all sorts of odd jobs, and finding create means of making money.

Dianite was silently proud of his ingenious soulmate, though he wished he’d be smarter as a whole. Years of watching the child grow into a young man created a growing affection for him. But as he hit 20, those feelings started to change. And damn, he might just be in love with the mortal. The only thing he had to do now was meet him, and it got harder to wait every day.  
So, when he finally showed up to one of his recruitment sessions (it was clear he was one of his followers very early on, regardless of the soul mark situated upon his right shoulder), he could hardly keep himself away. Though he was fairly certain he would pass the tests, he wanted to make sure he was prepared for what his army entailed. Soul mate or not, he needed to find a place among his people. (Though, if all else failed, he wasn’t against keeping him around just to spoil him).

He watched the group progress from afar, not very subtly if the way Furia sent him a sidelong glance told him anything. The humans didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in their tests. And Tom was doing remarkably well (no, he was not biased), finding ease in most things that proved challenging to his groupmates. When Furia started to approach him, the blue haired man exiting the area, he already knew he was getting to stay.

The first thing he received from the fiery being was an eye roll. 

“You couldn’t have been a little subtler with how you stared at him?” The god simply lifted the garment covering his mark (he wouldn’t want people actively seeking out his soul mate), and gestured towards it. Furia’s eyebrows shot up, before he gave a groan. 

“Why am I not surprised. Lucky you he will fit into the army well. Though I doubt you’d let him leave anyway.” Before the god could interject he prattled off the list of people he would keep, a little less than half the group. 

“The only one we must keep an eye on,” he continued, putting emphasis on we, “is the younger girl. We need to see if she is educated, and make sure she doesn’t get preyed on by any older recruits. They may lose their lives if they do.”

The god hummed in agreement, “Determine what age groups she’s in and see if we can’t pair her up with someone closer to her age. I thought we had a minimum age? I will not have children, no matter how skilled, in my army. They could be doing something better, like having a childhood.” 

His companion playfully rolled his eyes, rather amused by the mother hen moment.   
“We do, it is 15. Only for those who really need the job.”

Dianite gave a dismissive nod, already starting to walk back to the fortress. The two discuss other matters along the way, though Dianite found his thoughts often wandering to a certain blue haired man. If Furia noticed the small smile playing on the edge of his lips, he didn’t point it out.

~

Tom was certain the rumors circulating were absolute bullshit. Apparently, Lord Dianite himself had taken interest in his group, C27, a purely newbie group, and was seen watching them many times. 

He hadn’t seen the god, no one in their group had seen the god, when someone asked Furia, he just shrugged, telling them, “You know what they say, all rumors stem from some fraction of truth. Now get the fuck back to training, your defense is slacking. Again.”

Still, many people claimed to have spotted the god watching the group at one point or another. Tom had no clue why. They were hardly two weeks into their training regimens, and only half their group was managing it. That didn’t stop the bigger egos of the group from swelling in the head.

“He must be enraptured by my skill. I bet he’s looking to promote me to a permanent group,” one of the hardier men crow, smirking towards his current sparring partner. 

“Yes,” the male stripper, now donning actual clothes per regulation, scoffed, “And he’s here to check me out for a private dance.” A few more carried on in this fashion, one girl very adamant that he was mostly impressed with her and ready to give her a special ops position. (Really, some of these people didn’t know the meaning of humility).

Even after Furia claimed that Dianite was not watching them to check out the group, you guys are doing fucking terrible, the chatter continued. He didn’t deny that he was watching. Tom didn’t give a shit. He was determined to get into a better group, some asshole tried to grope him while he slept. Needless to say, he has a new scar. (Strangely enough, he didn’t come back after going to patch his wound. Must have been rather scared of the angry blue haired man).

After a few more weeks, they started to weed through the true fighters, and those who would be put onto supporting jobs (every team needed a medic, and the medic needed to know how to fight). Of course, there were those who were kicked out or tried for breaking certain rules that should never be trifled with. (One man was sentenced to death when he tried to take out a General to free a position for himself. Loyalty was one of the celebrated qualities of the Dianite following, and that included loyalty to the Dianite family). Though the blue haired man was certain he would be kept, he wasn’t too sure he’d receive any important position.

He wasn’t prepared to be called down by Furia, along with one of his newbie sisters (her name was Dylan, apparently her parents were expecting a boy, but decided the name would stick with a girl anyway). The pair were debatably better than most of the group, better with discipline and rather proficient with most of the weapons and craft thrown their way. Despite this, they worried. The last group to be called down by Furia was told to leave. Tom would be damned if he wasted all this time to not be good enough.

But as the fire demon lead them down a long series of hallways, bringing them further into the fortress, they weren’t too sure what was in store for them. 

They were stopped in front of an extravagant door, in which Furia turned to them and plainly stated, “Make sure you look presentable.” And then proceeded to open the doors and enter. That was the only preparation they had to stop their jaws from dropping. Before them, in his splendid glory and divinity was none other than Lord Dianite.

He was seated behind an ornate desk, lined with golden patterns and making up a large portion of the room. Before it was three cushioned chairs, meant for visitors such as themselves. The god was looking amusedly at their stunned expressions, though he appeared to have been working through paperwork of some sort. He waved it away, the papers disappearing in a cloud of smoke. Gesturing towards the chairs, he had the two mortals sit. Furia closed the doors behind them, and they Tom exchanged a baffled glance with his companion.

As Tom locked eyes with the god, a shiver raced up his spine. He spoke with a deep tone, a passive intensity hidden within, “There’s no need to worry, I brought you here due to your prowess and skill.” He shared a look with Furia, before shifting his gaze to Tom once more. 

“You have been selected as my newest personal guards. This will be a temporary job, for security reasons, but you have been drafted for this as you, being newbies, are most likely to be free of any manipulation that could affect your overall performance.”

With a nod to Furia, he stood, leading the group from the room once more. Through another series of confusing twists and turns, they reached the throne room, currently empty. He strode up the steps and turned back to them. 

“You’ll be positioned at the foot of the steps, one on each side, and be armed with swords, bows, and spears. Spears in hand, swords at the hip, bows at the back. Anyone who poses a threat to me is to be taken out, preferably alive for questioning. At times, I may ask you to escort someone from the room. Only Furia is allowed to be on or up the steps, or really anywhere past you. If you follow these instructions, you’ll do fine. Questions?” He was met with silent head shakes, the orders rather clear.

Thus, began their trials of handling the bullshit people came up with.

~

The first act of utter bullshit Tom had to deal with was almost two days later. Day one consisted of getting used to the steady flow of people asking for favors, or offering sacrifices, or even complaining about things that didn’t have anything to do with the god. 

This particular man stood before the god was one of the latter. He was here on some bogus complaint that one of his fields was destroyed by some ruffians, and how the god needed to fix them. No mention of them being Dianitees (not that the god would assist such an ungrateful peasant), no offerings in return for the favor, and the man even had the audacity to approach the steps, only stopped by the spears barring his path. Spittle flying from his lips, he turned on Dylan, assuming weakness from the woman.

“How sad that you need to hide behind a girl,” he sneered, attempting to shove her to the side. She didn’t budge, instead pushing him back a few steps, away from Dianite.

The god boredly settled his chin and his fist, leaning on the left side of the throne.

“Guards,” he called down, “Escort him out. He has overstayed his welcome.” Enraged, he tried once more to make his way past the guards, this time Tom shoved him back, approaching him with even steps. 

“You can’t treat me like this! How dare you put yourself upon a throne, acting as a tyrant!” Dylan took her chance to land a blow on the annoying man, giving him a solid hit to the stomach.  
With a grunt, he tried to wrestle the spear from her, giving Tom the chance to take his legs out from under him.

“Either you walk away with your last shred of dignity, or I drag you out like the rat you are.” The man snarled at the guard lunging at him. Before he could make contact, he was thrown back with the force of chains flinging themselves around him. His head hit the ground with a dizzying crack, the man letting out a groan.

From where Dianite sat he had one hand flicked out to the side. 

“I don’t appreciate you assaulting my guards heathen. You come in here, assuming I’d assist you, when you don’t even follow me or plan to give any offerings in return. Take him to the dungeon, we’ll find a punishment for him later,” he nodded to the two, “There will be guards outside as well, take him to them and tell them to take him down.”

There were no more spectacular incidents that day.

~

Today was yet another day of listening to the requests, prayers, and offerings of the people he oversaw. Regardless of their beliefs (he honestly didn’t give a shit as long as the Mianitees stayed away from his fortress), he held direct rule over the surrounding area. Unfortunately, this meant he had to deal with many matters concerning the inhabitants.

While many were smaller problems, a few cause more annoying problems. Like the ones who decided to push his guards around. (Not that they succeeded very much, the two were rather difficult to push around). However, it was more annoying when they showed an obvious interest in them. Specifically, Tom. He was aware that their uniform was rather fancy, reddened steel armor, with golden stitching laced into the leather binding it together. Underneath the armor were simple black tunics, covering every inch of skin, thick enough to deter any lucky strike to get through the cracks in the armor. But they didn’t cover the face, and their hair could still stick out some.

Tom’s blue hair drew attention, and though many tried to be subtle, he could see them checking out his soulmate. The urge to mark him in front of them, to show that Tom is his was strong, but he was determined to wait for Tom to figure it out. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to wait, honestly it was killing him having Tom so close, but part of him knew it would be easier for Tom to find out on his own.

But as the latest person didn’t even try to be subtle about checking Tom out (normally, they checked out Dylan, who was ready to stab them when given the chance) he felt the urge to murder. At least only he could have a good view of his ass, as he was only ever turned away from him. He knew the man’s type, greedy, thinks he’s sly, and looking for a new toy.

Honestly, Dylan even looked ready to beat his ass. But he was being civil, and prepared a rather swell offering in exchange for safe voyage to the next continent and back, and promised to give him some of his profits. He wasn’t about to let his own emotions conflict with something that benefitted him. So, despite his displeasure with the merchant, (who he was sure had some darker dealings going on), he made sure to bless him with calm seas.

~

Dianite was not, in fact, following Tom to make sure he returned home safely. The blue haired man had separated with his companion, who went to meet her soulmate for dinner. He was simply making last minute rounds before heading to his chambers to rest. However, when he saw a group lurking around the corner from Tom, who was making his way through the courtyard to the barracks, he was watching much closer than before.

The younger man seemed to have a clue that something was up, hand trailing to the hilt of his sword (he left his spear in the throne room, it was a custom weapon meant for that job). He wasn’t prepared for the three men to rush him, two distracting him, while one came up behind him with a cloth. When it was pushed to his face, he struggled not to breath and fight off his attacker, but the other two held him in place. A punch was landed into his gut, causing him to gasp, taking in whatever drug the cloth was laced with, and in seconds, he was out.

Dianite was not about to let them run off with his human. Eyes aglow, he stepped behind forward, smoothly teleporting behind them. Growling, he pierced the stomach of the first attacker, the other two turning from where they struggled to hold Tom up. In a fluid motion, he flicked a sword to his hand, and sliced through the neck of one. The last one dropped Tom and tried to run, but, after catching him, he set the man aflame.

Cradling Tom in his arms, he picked him up bridal style, debating as to where to go with him. Indulging a little, he teleported to his own room, settling the mortal upon his bed. He gazed at his serene face, biting his face. Everything in his screamed at him to mark his human, his soulmate. But, he didn’t know. 

“For fucks sake, sometimes I hate my dumbass decisions,” the god grumbled, brushing some of his hair off his forehead.

He chose to skip out on sleep that night, instead cuddling the sleeping man, who curled into him so naturally it made him want to keep him here. Though the drug was likely only meant to keep him out for two hours max, it was added to by the already tired state he had been in. The night passed this way, and when daylight broke, he reluctantly returned the mortal to his room, not caring if anyone noticed.

~

Tom started to notice something… strange. Almost a week ago, he had been jumped, and he barely registered blacking out, before he was waking in his bed once more, warmer than he had ever been with these cruddy blankets. (And rather relaxed, that may have been the best sleep of his life). Ever since that day, he would find his way to bed, but always have a vague recollection of cuddling with someone delightfully warm. But each time he tried to find out who, he’d open his eyes to the dim room he was placed in, in the barracks. He just wanted to know why he felt so peaceful in these moments.

If the tingle in his shoulder was anything to go by, he had a feeling as to why. If only they would stay, so they could meet properly. (In the back of his head, a voice screamed he already knew him, just look up dumbass, but Tom couldn’t understand it). And he was once more on guard duty, his mark still warm and soothing from last night, and some serious shit was happening.

Some Mianitee decided to deface part of the fortress, and was captured for trespassing and being an ass (the last one wasn’t the actual sentence, but accurate). But while Dianite calmly had the two escort him to the dungeon (along with the door guards), he acted out once more. From a hidden pocket he unfurled an explosive, made to detonate upon impact. The front guards both crumpled against the wall with twin thuds, and the Mianitee used one of their spears to cut himself loose in their stunned daze.

Acting fast, Tom used his own spear to jab at the man, who pivoted and broke the wooden shaft. Dylan dropped her spear and drew her sword with a flick of her wrist, taking his momentary distraction to get behind him. She swiped at him, but he dodged by barreling into Tom, grabbing the sharp end of the broken spear and jamming it into his gut.

Despite the wound inflicted upon him, Tom wrapped his legs around his aggressor, giving Dylan the vantage point to knock him out with the butt of her sword. “Tom?” She crouched down before him, rolling the body off his carelessly. 

“Hurts like a fucking petty bitch, but I’ll live. It’s probably lodged in my intestines, so there won’t be too much bleeding… I think,” he uttered through gritted teeth, one hand wrapped around splintered wood, about to remove the offending item.

“Leave it,” came the deep voice of their god. Tom craned his neck to see him glide down the hallway, concerned frown gracing his features. He surveyed the scene, two guards unconscious, likely with a concussion, and his soulmate with part of a spear lodged in him. Glaring at the blacked-out figure on the floor next to the awake duo, he snapped his fingers, sending him to the torture chamber for some fun.

“Dylan,” her head snapped up as he addressed her, “Go inform the waiting line that I will not be receiving any one else today. If they question you or complain, tell them I’m dealing with one of my brother’s bitches.” She gave a nod to her god, and jogged down the hall to do as told. He swept he hand towards the other two, presumably sending them to the medical wing.

Looking down at the injured blue haired man, he sighed. 

Holding nothing back, complained to him, “Why is my soulmate so attracted to trouble?”   
Shaking his head at the mildly dazed look he received, he lifted Tom in his arms, moving them both into his quarters. Placing him on the bed, reminiscent of a night a week earlier, he did not hesitate to yank the spear head out of Tom.

“Son of a bitch,” Tom practically screamed, looking at the god incredulously. “A little warning next time?”

Rolling his eyes, the god set about removing the mortal’s shirt, taking the time to do it manually, just to shamelessly run his fingers over his skin. Once the wound was uncovered, he placed his hand about it, mending the wound and numbing the pain.

“It’ll be better if you sleep it off,” Dianite murmured to his injured soulmate.

Swinging his half cape from shoulders and wrapping it around Tom’s, he picked him back up, moving to his office. 

Just as he was going to push Tom into sleep, a hand raised against his temple, the mortal whispered, astonished, “Wait, you’re my soulmate?” With a huff, the god sent him to sleep, settling into his chair with Tom resting in his lap.

“About fucking time.”


End file.
